Weary
by Llama Lady Lily
Summary: We are not the young ones any more... we are weary


_The Ode_

_They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:  
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn  
At the going down of the sun and in the morning  
We will remember them._

_- Laurence Binyon, 'For the Fallen'_

Age wearies us.

The saddle grows tougher, the horses taller, the youngsters, ruder. We do not grow softer, or shorter or more prudish, for we are still young men. And women, of course.

We've discussed it – at length. Those who once proudly road destriers have swapped them for desks. Those who were once able to run miles find their lungs heaving. Those who were once the talk of the town become married, and parents.

Those dreams of heroes are met, and the trumpet's call no longer inspires courage and energy, merely a sigh, and a prayer to the Gods.

The King is the first to realize, that it is time. Time for a much younger man to take his place, and so the Coronation is held at Sunset on Roald's twenty first birthday.

And we who were once the Pride of the Nation find ourselves watching our children take our places in the world.

The army is the first to be changed. Vanget, who long protested many of the King's projects and ideals, is the first to resign with his ruler. He would not head the army if he was not the King's Man.

Merric of Hollyrose takes the coveted position, and very few people protested his running of the army, as they had done for his predecessor.

Sir Myles steps down next. He had proudly served under the reign of two Kings. He begins, and finishes one assignment under Roald, so that he can serve three Kings, and passes on his crown to George Cooper to do the paper work. George refuses to name his replacement, but the King knows that Faleron of King's Reach has taken the job, and promises to be the best yet.

Alanna is the next to take her leave, following her father and husband. She goes kicking and screaming, however, as she had long expected Mindelan to take her place as the King's Champion. The proud position instead goes to Owen of Jesslaw, who singlehandedly took down twenty eight Scanrans within an hour, ransacked King Maggur's castle and claimed his head for the King of Tortall, ending the War.

Mindelan instead becomes Knight Commander of the King's Own. It's just as well, too, as the Lioness seemed ready to commit mutiny. The Gossip says that Raoul and Captain Flyndan marched into the King's study and threw down their resignation papers, demanding that Kel take The Knight Commander's place, and that Roald was so stunned he agreed without second thought. With the list of men in front of him, Roald immediately assigns her husband as her civilian second. Many people were atwitter about the appointment of both of these positions, including the Masbolles, but they proved to be a cunning team, and, under the Mindelan/Masbolle regime, the King's Own became fighting machines, with the combined fighting techniques of every fief in the land, Tortall Knights and the Yamani Isles. They became so good, each squad had fearsome nicknames such as 'The Giantkillers' and 'Spidren borne'.

Cleon of Kennan takes over training master after Paidrag ha Minch steps down. No one had ever thought Cleon would do well with kids, but his charges knew better, and training becomes tougher, but more enjoyable. Boys who were not fit to be Knights, however, are encouraged not to enter the Chamber of Ordeal, for Cleon was a calm soul, who wished the fate of Joren on no one.

Seaver of Tasride, who was sponsored by the King his first year as a page, becomes Prime Minister. A fair and quiet soul, he needs no mathematics, and advises his King on all things from Carthak to Scanra, and, of course, everything in between.

Shinkokami is not surprised when Buri resigns her post. She resigns conditionally, though. She will only leave the post of her choice of Commanders takes her place. Uline ha Minch of Hannaloff keeps her fief in her name, and rises to wear the arm band of Head of the Queens Riders, and weeps.

It's my son, however, that takes my position as chief healer. I spring that on him by changing the name plate on the door to the office. He glows with pride, shakes my hand, and rushes off to deliver a baby.

We had our time. We were once the proud young men… and women. We shined like no other. And now it is time for us to pass the torch. We are not the young ones any more. Our wars have been fought, our mistakes have been made. Our heroes have proved themselves, and our dead have been honored. Our bones have been broken, our promises kept. Our holidays taken, our hours due, paid, and we are now tired.

As time goes on, we see the young ones we once were… in the eyes of our children. We see them taking great leaps forward, as we once did. We see them shining with hope, and we see them promise to meet our greatest deeds, and surpass them.

We are weary.

**I own nothing. Dedicated to the brave men and women who have fought, and continue to fight, for their countries. A special mention to those who are no longer weary.**

**Lest we forget.**


End file.
